


Three's a Crowd

by bloodandcream



Series: The more the merrier [48]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Multi, Polyamory, Slice of Life, With a wee pinch of almost smut, and a barely there side of Wincestiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 01:58:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6175879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meg wasn’t too sure when it happened, but she knew when she woke up sore with strangers earlier that morning what she was thinking about was how comfy their bed was, what Abby smelled like in the morning, how Naomi clung on like a barnacle when she cuddled.<br/>Life was fucking strange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three's a Crowd

Stubbing out her cigarette on the side walk in front of the shop, red neon open sign lit up, Meg balanced the cardboard cup holder against her hip as she shoved the glass door open. The little bell above it tinkled announcing her presence. The black and white checkered linoleum squeaked under combat boots as she shuffled to the black painted front counter and set the coffee down. Three ventis. One black with a shot of sugar free hazelnut for Naomi. One mocha with three extra espresso shots for Abby. And her own caramel macchiato piled with whip cream.

Shoving her sunglasses up into tangled hair like a headband, Meg circled around the counter and plopped onto a red vinyl covered stool to flip through the appointment sheet for the day. Behind her, she could hear the squeak of the spritz bottle that would mean Naomi wiping down counters and work stations. The shop perpetually smelled like lemon and mint from Naomi’s obsessive cleaning. She used a home made solution that she concocted herself. The auto clave hummed in the private area that was back and to the left, opposite the office.

The clock read 12:19. Late. Not too late. Maybe. The place was deserted anyway, hardly anyone came in so early for piercings or tattoo work. The purple velvet couches that Meg had found at a thrift shop were empty, magazines on the shiny lacquered wood table stacked perfectly neat, binders of wall flash all oriented to one side.

The sharp clack-clack of heels came up behind Meg.

“You’re late.”

“At least I’m not a half an hour late.”

“But you’re still late.”

“Not too late. Plus, I have coffee.”

Swiveling around on her stool, Meg held up the coffee for Naomi and gave her a sweet, almost sincere, smile. Naomi pursed her lips. She’d changed out her septum ring from the plain gold to one that had a small opal set in it. It looked nice. The studs in her lip were still simple gold balls and her earrings hung with small fine chains that looped through each successive hole. Hair done up in a perfect bun, like always, she set her spray bottle down on the counter to accept the coffee.

“This is a bribe.”

“Does it matter?”

Naomi pulled the lid off to sip gingerly, the crease in her forehead smoothing out as she took a deep breath. She asked, “How was the show last night?”

“Fucking awesome. The bands were loud, the mosh pit was lively, it was a great crowd.”

“Your make up looks horrible. Have you even showered?”

“I woke up back stage. No shower.”

Meg leaned against the counter as she sipped her own coffee.

“Take Abby’s coffee to her and go upstairs for a shower. You can’t run the counter like that, it’s unprofessional.”

Hopping off the stool, Meg scoffed, “Yes mom.”

Placing a hand on Naomi’s hip, those denim pants that fit her curves just right smooth to the touch, Meg pulled her a little closer.

Naomi cocked one perfectly drawn eyebrow at her. “Have you brushed your teeth this morning?”

Meg leaned forward and laughed against the crook of her neck, smelling like baby powder and lavender, the collar of her button up shirt undone for the first few buttons. Kissing the curve of her shoulder up to the sweet spot behind her ear that made Naomi shudder, Meg pressed up against her. Last night was fun, Meg still enjoyed a wild party and anonymous sex every now and then to keep things interesting. But Naomi was familiar and comfortable. When her head was pounding with a hangover, her body had strange aches, and she was running on maybe three hours of sleep, it was nice just to lean against Naomi.

There was a sharp slap to her hip.

“Go on, I’ll watch the counter until one. Make sure you’re back by then.”

Grabbing Abby’s coffee to take back to her, Meg nodded. “Yeah, yeah.”

“And thank you for the coffee.”

Meg waved over her shoulder as retreated further into the shop, past the open area behind the counter where easy work was done to the one private room they had then down the small hallway to the office. Abby was sitting behind the desk, vivid red hair swept up in a messy pony tail, face set in a scowl at the stack of paperwork in front of her. A faded old ‘Slayer’ t-shirt was stretched tight across a pair of the most perfect fucking tits Meg had ever know.

She stepped into the office and set the coffee down on the corner of the desk before retreating. Abby hated the paperwork. She was an artist, not a fucking accountant. And she was never to be trifled with before having coffee in the morning. So Meg quietly left her offering before making her way to the back of the shop where the door was to the stairs.

The three of them had an apartment above the shop together. It was convenient, even if it was a little small. Meg made quick work of taking a shower, putting on fresh make up and getting dressed. The morning had been chilly but it was warming up so she threw on a dark red tank top and ratty black jeans, always happy to show off her sleeve tattoos that were kind of like a cemetery mural of goth stereotype, but hey, it was her style. 

She made it back down to the shop just before one, and Naomi was at the counter filling out paperwork for a pair of young girls who were getting their belly buttons pierced together. Meg talked jewelry with them while Naomi set up her station. They were way too cheerful.

Business trickled in slowly for the afternoon. Although they set up shop in a college town where the work was always in demand, they weren’t on the fringes of the campus like a million other shops, but a bit away in a more run down section of town. Personally, Meg liked the lighter foot traffic, and they were able to keep the shop going with just the three of them.

They had a good thing going on.

-

Meg clacked the ball of her tongue piercing against her teeth as she flipped through a magazine at the front counter, kicking her heels against the legs of her stool. Megadeath was blasting to drown out the whimpers of the roided up beef cake that was getting a tribal band around his bicep. The afternoon was wearing on steadily into the evening and they’d had a few piercing walk in’s that Naomi had Meg watch on.

She was still studying to get her certification, so she didn’t get to actually stab anyone yet – at least not for money – and Naomi could be a real hardass when it came to the rules, but Meg wouldn’t want to apprentice under anyone else. She’d been running the counter for almost a year now, it was just a natural progression of events for her to work on learning piercings.

But there was still plenty of down time, especially during the week.

The bell above the door chimed and Meg looked up to see Cas, Sam and Dean coming in. Oh yeah, Dean was on the schedule to get work done on his back piece today.

“Hey.” Was the only greeting Meg offered, still flipping through her magazine.

Dean leaned against the counter, giving her a charming smile. “Abby free?”

“She’s finishing up a walk in. She’ll be done soon.”

Dean rapped his knuckles a few times against the counter and retreated to the couches. Sam had already set up his lap top with a cord to the corner outlet and Cas was flipping through the limited tv stations. They were familiar faces around here, studded with silver, thick arms colored heavily, feeling at home enough to kick their boots up on the coffee table and Meg sniggered under her breath ‘cause Naomi was gonna tear Dean a new hole for that.

The buzz of the tattoo gun cut off, Abby making terse conversation as she cleaned up her work. Meg set down her magazine when Abby walked her customer up to the counter, explaining after care again. The guy nodded at Meg with a cocky smirk and she scowled him, sending him ducking out the front door.

“Jackass didn’t even leave a fucking tip.” Abby growled after him.

“Abby, how’s my girl? Looking cheerful as usual, I see,” Dean sauntered up all sweetness and charm.

“You know the drill Winchester, don’t waste my time.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Dean winked at Meg as he trailed back after Abby, pulling his shirt over his head and straddling the chair at her station as she finished cleaning up and setting out ink.

Meg considered her magazine, tapped her fingers against the front case, looked to the boys hanging out on the couch. “Hey. Sam. You should let me pierce your nipples.”

Sam looked up from his laptop with his mouth turned down and rolled his eyes at her. “No way am I letting you near me with a needle.”

“I won’t charge, gotta get some practice in.”

Huffing, he went back to his lap top.

Cas shuffled up to the desk and squinted. “I’ve been thinking about getting a Prince Albert.”

“No way, Clarence, classy.” Twisting back and shouting, Meg called out “Hey! Naomi!”

With a clack of heels, Naomi appeared out of the supply room. “Yes?”

“You wanna watch while I pierce Cas’ dick?”

Naomi pursed her lips. “I don’t believe you’re quite there yet.”

“Well I’ve never done one before, but there’s always got to be a first.”

“I would be glad to instruct you, but it would be watching only.”

Hopping off her stool, Meg was excited for the chance for a little hub bub - and for seeing what Cas what packing, if she were perfectly honest with herself.

Sam butted in, “Cas, you know you can’t have sex for like a month while that heals, right?”

Cas snorted, “Penetrative sex would be out of the question, yes, but that doesn’t mean you can’t perform the penetration on me. Of course, if you aren’t interested, I’ll make sure to ask Dean.”

From the couch, eyes still on his laptop, Sam shrugged, “I’m just saying.”

Meg practically tugged Cas around the counter, “C’mon, I’ll pay for jewelry, this’ll be fun.”

When Cas shuffled past Dean - who watched with amusement in his eyes cause he couldn’t move - and dropped his jeans in the middle of the shop to wave his dick at Naomi, Meg decided this might just be the highlight of her not quite existent yet career.

-

By the time Meg finished closing on the shop, sweeping the floors again as Naomi fussed and wiped down the glass display cases for the hundredth time, the apartment upstairs was muggy with steam and the shower was running as she kicked off her shoes at the front door. The first order of business was putting on a pot of water to boil for pasta, then Meg was stripping off her clothes on her way to the bathroom.

Abby was lingering in the shower; it was where she liked to hide when things weren’t so good.

Meg let herself in. Abby scowled at her, red hair plastered against her face and eyes a little red rimmed.

“Hey.” Meg didn’t bother with soap or shampoo, she’d showered earlier and she wasn’t going to pretend she was invading Abby’s shower for anything practical. “Sorry you couldn’t make it to the concert last night.”

Abby leaned into the spray to rinse soap off her face. “Was it good?”

“Yeah.” Meg crowded closer to the water for the warmth. “How’s your mom?”

Abby shrugged, turned away, “She’s all right. Might be discharged by the weekend.”

“You going to the hospital again tomorrow morning?”

“Probably.”

Meg knew Abby hated her mom, couldn’t understand why she tortured herself visiting anyway. They hadn’t seen each other in almost a year, then the woman went had had a stroke. It didn’t really make sense, but all of Meg’s family was long dead and the most important people to her were in this apartment right now. Abby was never good with talking about things. Meg circled an arm around her waist to pull her closer, and Abby turned in to it, nuzzling wetly against her neck, the pound of the water masking any sniffles. Meg pushed her hair away, curved a hand down the dip of her spine, kissed her forehead.

Abby pushed her back, leaned her against the tile wall and grasped Meg’s face to kiss her hungrily. She could understand this, the comfort two people could give each other with their bodies, with just being there. It was easier than saying things you’d regret. Sliding her hands down to Abby’s waist, Meg pulled her closer, breasts pressed together and one of Abby’s thighs slotted up between her legs.

Hiding her face in the crook of Meg’s shoulder, Abby shuddered with a deep breath.

Meg kept her close, in the warmth and dim small space of the shower, giving what little comfort she could when words were so inadequate but the person in her arms meant everything to her. Well almost everything. Abby and Naomi were kind of a package deal. Meg could admit, she had a favorite. But she’d been Abby’s sub for a while before she met Naomi. After getting evicted from her place, they gave her their couch but it wasn’t even a month before she’d moved to the bed. Now she was even working with them too.

Meg wasn’t too sure when it happened, but she knew when she woke up sore with strangers earlier that morning what she was thinking about was how comfy their bed was, what Abby smelled like in the morning, how Naomi clung on like a barnacle when she cuddled.

Life was fucking strange.

-

The water was boiling on the stove by the time Meg pulled on a tank top and boxers, but the pasta had already been added. Poking her head out of the kitchen, Meg threw a ‘thanks’ at Naomi who was curled up on the couch with a book. Looking up, Naomi gave her a small tight smile, “How is Abby?”

Shrugging, Meg answered, “The usual,” before turning back into the kitchen.

Setting on Hunt’s sauce to simmer, Meg pulled out onions and green pepper to dice. Seasoning, ground beef, the timer set, Meg checked the noodles and wandered into the living room where Abby was curled up in yoga pants and a bra on the couch with Naomi, both reading on either end, toes barely overlapping in the middle. Flopping down on the wide, sagging chair between the couch and the window, Meg flipped on the TV. “What do you want to watch with dinner?”

Abby dog eared her book and set it aside, sifting her fingers through loose, wet hair. “You pick.”

“Daily Show it is.”

Picking out one they hadn’t watched before, Meg slung her legs over the arm of the arm of the chair and slouched. Abby was slowly inching her feet forward, tucking them under Naomi’s ass who only shifted, still reading her book. Sometimes, Meg still wondered how the hell the two of them had ended up a couple, although she knew logistically that opening the shop together was what had started that. They were complete opposites. Naomi normally controlling and fussy. Abby normally wild and antagonistic.

But sometimes there were quieter moments and Meg could easily see the steady affection Naomi had, the rare moments of vulnerability Abby let her see.

When the timer went off, Meg checked the food and deeming it done, called the others in to the kitchen. Plates piled and topped with shredded cheese, beers passed around, the three of them settled back on the couch together to eat. There were times Meg still felt on the outside of the relationship, questioned what it was that she even had to offer. But hey, she made the best spaghetti. Curled together on the couch letting the day’s tension seep out, Meg felt at home when an arm wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her closer to their messy tangle.

Whoever said ‘three’s a crowd’ anyway?


End file.
